


Of Secrets and Snowballs

by chasingforeverandaday



Series: many, many friends [3]
Category: Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Annapoe is totally a thing, Basically pure Wellenore fluff, Because I am incapable of writing anything without a healthy dose of sarcasm and teasing, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, and banter, everyone else is there too, or will be if Lenore has anything to say about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 22:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9405917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingforeverandaday/pseuds/chasingforeverandaday
Summary: In which Lenore just wants to be fashionably late, and H.G. just needs everything to go according to plan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ever have one of those moments where you do something and then realize later you have no idea what your plan is? Yeah, I joined the Poe Party Secret Santa without actually thinking about what I would be doing as my gift. 
> 
> Luckily for me, Wellenore are ridiculously cute and sparked my muse, because this was the first story I think I've actually managed to finish in like ever (let alone publish). 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the fluff, and hopefully I'll actually manage to write something again soon. Please leave any comments below, I'd love to hear what you guys think!

        Watching the clock tick another minute past five, Lenore couldn’t handle her own impatience any longer. “Herbert George Wells! If you don’t get your cute butt upstairs soon, I’m going to leave for Oscar’s party without you!” Somehow she, lover of fashion who always required several hours to look effortlessly fab, was habitually ready before her adorable, yet chronically tardy, nerd of a boyfriend. Upon occasion (like tonight), it was seriously stress inducing. “We need to get there before Ernest steals all the booze!”

        There was a muffled bang and then, “I will be up in a mere moment my dear Lenore! The energy consumption monitor I’ve been working on was misbehaving and it set off the water heater, which then overloaded the climate control, which in turn made the heater malfunction, and well you know! I couldn’t just let them sit there, they needed to be fixed.”

        Glancing at the clock again, she let out an indignant groan. “Wells, we needed to leave ten minutes ago to arrive perfectly fashionably late. Now we’ll just be late. Although we’ll probably still beat Annabel and my brother, Lord knows how difficult it can be to get him out the door.”

        As HG finally appeared coming up the basement stairs, Lenore saw that he was already wearing his clothes for the party, and had miraculously kept them clean despite all of the tinkering downstairs. “But Lenore, I presumed you would want the furnace to be properly functioning when it snows again and the temperature drops tonight. Oh dear, I must have miscalculated, however shall I make it up to you.” The self-satisfied smirk at his successful retort was ruined slightly by the lopsided goggles and soot smudged on his nose.

        “The sass was entirely unnecessary Goggles,” she gestured at the aforementioned headgear. “Speaking of which, none of that at Oscar’s house, remember? Or do you want another lecture on the ridiculousness of steampunk culture? And wipe off your nose, you managed to get soot all over it. No, not with your sleeve! Oh, follow me.” With a huff, she marched back into their kitchen, intent on cleaning HG up and getting him out of the house before they managed to be even later.

        “The man regularly wears velvet overcoats, I don’t see why…”

        “The man is Oscar, and since he is the one throwing the Christmas party this year, he can wear whatever the hell his fabulous little heart desires. Unless you’d rather we have held the party at Casa de Poe again, full of drear and utterly lacking holiday cheer?” Because only Edgar would think that a murder mystery party was the appropriate way to celebrate Christmas. The only acquiesce to the season had been placing very sad little Santa hats on the ravens, which in and of itself was disturbing.

        “Your point is made most elegantly my dear Lenore.”

        “Stop kissing up and go get in the car.”

* * *

 

        Luckily for their poor house, none of the mechanical malfunctions that he had been explaining earlier had actually occurred. Herbert Wells had merely needed an excuse to avoid his dear Lenore Poe for a while. Not for any nefarious reasons of course. No, he merely needed the time to psych himself up for tonight. After all the time spent deciding what to give Lenore for Christmas this year, everything had to be perfect. He only planned to propose once after all.

Initially he’d had no idea what to get her. He adored her and her enthusiasm for all things fashion, but he was the first to admit she lost him a few sentences into any of her rambles. Once, he’d  tried to make a device that could accurately take measurements on any human form. The less said about that failed invention, the better. At least he’d made Lenore laugh.

It was hardly as if any of their mutual friends had been much help. Oscar had begun extolling the virtues of this little shop downtown that sold some of the most, erm, “lovely” little toys that he was sure Lenore would appreciate. The combination of wiggling eyebrows and ennunciation of the statement had very quickly turned HG’s ears bright red. Annabel was quite kind and tried to be helpful, but he very much doubted she and Lenore would appreciate the same gifts. He imagined that were he to present Lenore with a pet rock or something of its ilk, she would most likely laugh and ask what her real present was. He had decided against asking Ernest for any advice. That way would only lead to drunken rambling about Spanish sunsets and being chained down by a woman.

Edgar on the other hand… Edgar had unintentionally given him quite the brilliant idea to propose, as he had misread the conversation and very awkwardly hugged him for finally deciding to saddle himself with Lenore and taking all hypothetical responsibility for her out of Edgar’s hands.

Of course, finding the perfect ring and planning a proposal that would suit Lenore was another adventure altogether, involving six jewelry stores, two emotional breakdowns (when he finally found the ring and when he picked it up last week), and several industrial size bottles of Russian vodka as he and and his friends planned the greatest proposal ever proposed.

They scrapped it the next morning once the phrase “and ride off on a unicorn” was noticed. A much better plan was created once everyone was less hungover.

Considering all of his initial proposal panic, there was probably a 50/50 shot that some form of disaster would end up occurring, if only because he knew their friends, and their friends were a living, breathing commotion.

* * *

 

        Once they’d finally arrived at Oscar’s, they walked in the door and were hit with a wall of noise, emanating from the kitchen. As she and HG made their rounds of hugs and hellos, Lenore noticed that her not-so-favorite frenemy was there, glaring at her from across the room over a nearly empty glass of wine.

        “Oh don’t worry about Charlotte this year, darling. She’s been focused on sinking her teeth into Fyodor since she walked in. Apparently he cleans up well, if the muttering under her breath is any indication.” The gossiping tone and curls hitting her neck could only belong to one man…

        “Oscar! This place looks ah-mazing!” After a quick hug, Lenore drew back and glanced up at him seriously. “But how sure are you about bitchy Bronte? Last year she practically ruined the party by bringing along Eddie. Annabel was distraught for weeks! Why did you invite her anyway?”

        “Lady Lenore! Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it! Every party needs a bit ofdrama. And Fyodor basically volunteered himself as the sacrificial lamb when she flounced in.”

        “Meaning?”

        “He’s really quite terrible at Not It. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go discreetly dispose of Louisa’s casserole. She said it was vegan, but I swear there were sticks poking out of it!”

* * *

 

        It was almost time. He’d spent the past hour outside with Shelley, making sure everything was ready and set to his specifications. He just needed to pull Lenore away from her discussion with Mary Ann and Emily. “My dear Lenore, may I borrow you for a second? It seems I may have gotten something on my shirt and was hoping-”

        “Jeez Professor, I can’t take you anywhere can I?” Her fondness shone through despite the slightly peeved tone. Lenore grabbed his arm and led him into the bathroom. “Well, where is it?”

        He should have thought that excuse through a bit farther. “Erm, nowhere? I may have merely wanted an excuse to steal you away and show you something.”

        “Oh, is that where you’ve been? Don’t give me that look mister, I noticed you have been conveniently MIA. You missed Annabel and Edgar showing up, it was hilariously awkward, as he always is,” she rambled as her boyfriend grasped her arm and began pulling her through the house, away from all of their friends. “You know, I think they actually cametogether you know, not just carpooling. Which can I say, finally! I mean, the pining and gloom and sighing. Both of them! Wait, why are we going outside? HG it’s freezing out there!”

        “Which is why I procured your coat before finding you. Now, please close your eyes and follow me.” He led her out to the gazebo behind Oscar’s house, which had been covered (rather haphazardly) in fairy lights the day before by Ernest and Mary Ann. He made sure Lenore was facing the back lawn and then took a deep breath and pressed play on the remote that had been hiding in his pocket. “Lenore, open your eyes.”

        “What’s with all the secrecy? I know what Oscar’s backyard…” She trailed off, entranced by the video playing out on the pristine snow. It was a compilation of pictures and videos of the two of them, loving (or mockingly) taken by their friends, most of whom were probably pressed against the window, straining to hear what was happening. HG wrapped his arms around her and placed his head on her shoulder, staring down at their shared history.

        “Do you remember two years ago when you kissed me in this gazebo? It was the middle of one of our blasted snowball fights and all of a sudden, there you were, eyes sparkling and grinning at me. And then you kissed me and I completely blanked out. We’d been dating for nearly a year, but you still made me breathless. Of course, then you proceeded to stuff snow down my shirt, but still, I think that was the moment I decided that I wanted to marry you.”

        “Really, me assaulting you with frozen water is what did it?”

        He was holding her hands around her waist and squeezed before letting go to reach into his back pocket. “I’ve loved you for years, but that is the moment I can very easily pinpoint and say ‘I can’t imagine spending a minute of the rest of my life without that woman.’ Because even if we were on opposing sides, even if quite literally five minutes before that you were cursing my name for messing up your makeup, I was always going to want to be next to you.” By now the video had paused on a picture that neither of them had known about until recently. Emily had had managed to capture the moment of the aforementioned kiss, including the stack of snow in Lenore’s hand, about to be shoved down HG’s back. “I will always want to be next to you. You are my best friend, the love of my life, and the one person who I know will always have my back.” He kissed her cheek, let go of her waist, and went down on one knee.

        “Oh HG…”

“And so, my dearest, dearest Lenore, will you marry me?”

        “Yes! Yes, of course you giant dork. I love you so much.” Grasping at his collar, Lenore pulled him to his feet and threw her arms around him, kissing him. And when they finally came up for air minutes later, he managed to get the (absolutely perfect) ring onto her finger. “You did a very good job on this by the way, I love this ring.”

        “Thank you, but really-”

        “DOES THIS MEAN WE CAN START DRINKING THE CHAMPAGNE NOW?”

        Resting their foreheads together, he gave a short, huffing laugh. “Well, at least I actually got to propose before they interrupted.” Though based on the way Lenore was grinning at him, he doubted he’d care what anyone else was doing.

        “I’m amazed they’ve kept Ernest under control this long.”

        “I’m not sure how much of it was under control and how much of it was Oscar buying three extra bottles of whiskey.”

        “Oh that makes so much more sense.” And with that, their friends gave up on patiently letting them have their moment and stormed the back deck, leading to a swarm of hugs and congratulations.

        (And Charlotte rolling her eyes, but Lenore didn’t care. Not even Queen of the Spinsterhood, bitchy Charlotte Bronte could bring down this mood.)


End file.
